An Unexpected Caller.

"The Time Machine by HG Wells," Buffy murmured, her fingertip tracing the faded gold letters on the book's spine.

It was not the sort of book that she expected to find on the playroom shelves. The majority of the books were easy readers for the youngest kids or battered copies of Enid Blyton's fairytales. Buffy eased the book from between its companions and began turning the gold-edged pages over. The scent of old paper, printers ink, and dust rose up to tickle her nose and her memories.

She was sitting at a table in a school library with friends. Xander, his messy hair falling into his eyes, stuffed a full doughnut into his mouth. On the seat next to him, Willow was hyperventilating over a magic book whilst over to one side sat a dark-haired girl reading a fashion magazine with a bored expression. Giles came from his office and began to polish his glasses. There was a problem procuring an obscure demonology book from the Watchers Council, and he intended to approach another colleague to see if he had a copy.

Coming back to the present, Buffy blinked.Watchers Council? That was new. Did they exist? If they did, why hadn't she been contacted? Buffy thought back to the vampire that she'd slain in the bombed-out building. He'd known what a Slayer was but thought they had long gone. Yet here she was. What was the truth? Was she some kind of aberration?

She took a deep, steadying breath.None of it made sense. Really, she should just put all the Slayer memories to one side and concentrate on what was happening in her life right now. Last night, when she had sneaked out to see her Mom - hoping for answers, Joyce Summers had looked worse than ever. She'd opened her eyes for a couple of minutes, patted Buffy's hand, and then slipped back into unconsciousness without answering any questions.

Seeing her Mom weakened like this worried Buffy far more than Hank's angry letter or her own lack of memories. She felt useless and frustrated at not being able to help. It was obvious that something was badly wrong with her Mom, and whatever the doctors were doing wasn't helping. In the end, she'd stayed beside her Mom's bed for hours. She'd been there for so long that one of the nurses, doing their rounds, had almost caught her.

Buffy sighed, her spirits dark and melancholy as the weather outside. Perhaps, she should read the book. It might stop her from dwelling on things beyond her control, and it wasn't as if there was anything better to do.

Tom had gone out for the day. He'd been in a cheerful mood at breakfast. He'd strode over with a wide smile, telling her that he'd received a letter from his school and they had made him a prefect. He also had a list of textbooks that he needed for the start of term and left shortly after breakfast to buy them. Buffy had watched him leave from the window, the letter from her father burning a hole in her pocket, and feeling that hollow sensation of loneliness more than ever...

She took the book up to her room, glancing at the wardrobe out of habit as she opened the door. The boggart had been very quiet since it came back yesterday evening. Buffy wasn't sure if it was sulking at her or behaving itself in case she hit it with one of her books again for returning. She continued past Spikey's hiding place to her desk. There she pulled out the chair, sat down, and began to read.

The day drifted slowly onwards. Occasionally, a hard squall of rain would hit the window, making Buffy look up or she'd hear someone in the corridor and stop reading. Tom didn't return and when no one came in to disturb her, she began tuning out all the noises and lost herself in the story. She'd just reached the part where Weena and the Time Traveller were surrounded by attacking Morlocks when her bedroom door opened.

A man slipped into the room, shutting the door and casting a wordless Muffliato charm. Once confident that no one would overhear them, his eyes swept over the grim bedroom, coming to rest on the only bright spot in the room – Buffy Summers.

The girl showed no sign of being aware of him, and he used the opportunity to observe her. He took in her slight figure, the way her golden hair flowed over her shoulders, and the way her small hand propped up her chin as she continued to read. He eyed the book, wondering what subject enthralled her. Curious, he silently crossed the room and peered over her shoulder.

Buffy pushed back hard with her heels. The chair's legs screeched loudly on the tiled floor as she thrust herself backwards. The man jumped sideways, with an agility that belied his age. The next instant, he ducked and a chair flew overhead, crashing into the door.

He rose to face her, lifting his empty hands to show his peaceful intentions, the words of explanation on his tongue. Before he could utter a word, Buffy kicked out at him. Her foot slammed into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him and sending him staggering. He lost his footing and fell down heavily onto the bed. The back of his head hitting the wardrobe with such force that he saw stars. Then, before he'd had a chance to gather his wits, the wardrobe shook, and there came from within it a loud cracking noise.

Buffy, who'd been about to make a run for the door, froze in mid-stride.

A teenage boy stepped out of the wardrobe. Blonde, handsome, and brandishing a long thin notched wand, he wore a look of disdain that turned into an outright sneer when he saw the man on the bed.

The man's eyes widened with recognition and fear. "Gellert?" He shook his head."No. No, that is impossible. It isn't you, it can't be..."

The boy did not reply. He simply turned his frosty gaze onto Buffy, as if assuring himself that she was uninjured. The small pause was all that was needed for the man to gather his thoughts.

Pulling a wand from his pocket, the man pointed it at the Gellert and shouted, "Riddikulus!"

"No!" Buffy shrieked, but she was too late.

Gellert spun so fast that he blurred. When he finally stopped spinning, he'd changed. Gone was the blonde boy and in his place was a wooden puppet, bouncing backwards and forwards on a large spring – a grotesque smile on its carved wooden face.

"Boggart begone!" The wizard raised his wand once again, to cast the spell and complete the boggart's banishment, when Buffy moved.

In a blur of Slayer speed, she spun and kicked. Her foot kicking the wand out the wizard's hand and sending it somersaulting into the air. She jumped and caught it. As her fingers closed around the wooden shaft, a plume of silver and gold sparkles shot out from the tip and cascaded down into the room. Undeterred by the accidental firework display that she'd just created, Buffy levelled the wand at the wizard.

"Try that again, Gandalf, and I'll ram this into your eye like a fork through a pickle." She backed up as she spoke, feeling better if there was more space between them. She only stopped moving when the back of her legs hit the desk, and she could go no further.

The man held up his hands once more. "My dear, I swear that I am not here to harm you. I -."

His explanation was interrupted by the snap of the boggart changing. This time it took the form of a slim man with icy blonde hair, mismatching eyes, and a grin that was both merry and sinister. Gellert Grindelwald brushed a hand through his short, blonde hair, and then swaggered over to the desk where he took his place beside Buffy.

Buffy's face softened. She patted Grindelwald's knee affectionately. "I'm glad he hadn't hurt you."

In sharp contrast to hers, the wizard's face was creased with horror and bafflement. "Why are you allowing that..." he pointed at the Grindelwald boggart, "...thing to approach you?"

Seeing Grindelwald, even if it was a boggart, lounging alongside Buffy as if he was her best friend, made him feel nauseous.

"Little Spikey is not a thing!" Buffy's eyes flashed. "Who," she spat, "gave you the right to come in here, wave your magic-mojo, and tell Spikey that he was ridiculous for trying to protect me?"

Grindelwald grinned at her, and she gave him a comforting pat on his thigh. The boggart threw the wizard a triumphant look.

The wizard had the urge to start tearing his own hair out. "Please listen carefully to me," he said. "That is a boggart." He took a deep breath and went on, "It is a non-being. That is, a thing that has never been alive yet has an awareness. It does not eat food like we do, in fact it is a type of vampire. They linger in dark hidey-holes and when someone passes their lair they spring out, taking on the appearance of their victim's worst nightmare and then feeding upon on their terror. You cannot live alongside it, it must be driven away. Give me back my wand and I will banish it for you."

The Grindelwald-boggart glared at him, offended.

"No way! Spikey is my boggart. You leave him alone." Buffy scowled at the wizard. Then she turned a soft, reassuring smile on the boggart and gave it another consoling pat on the leg. Grindelwald gazed back at her adoringly.

"Why isn't it turning into your worst nightmare?" The man's own fear and unease disappearing, driven away by the conundrum of a boggart who'd chosen to live in a young girl's wardrobe and not harm her.

"We're friends," Buffy replied. Then she pointed out, "He's more right to be in my bedroom than you have."

"I'd here to see you," the wizard explained. He thought it wise not to mention that he'd forgotten to knock before entering. "One cannot have a boggart as a friend. They are incapable of friendship."

"Who says?"

His stare moved from the boggart to Buffy as he pondered the question. Who indeed? The wizard realised that since most people avoided boggarts, very little research had been done on them. "Would you ask..." he waved a hand at the boggart, having forgotten its name.

"Spikey," supplied Buffy.

"Quite. Would you mind asking your friend, Spikey, to go back into the wardrobe whilst we continue this conversation in private? I'm here with full knowledge of a lady called Martha whom I met downstairs, she pointed me to your room as I have a good reason to be here."

Buffy stared at him, as if weighing up his words. "Okay. Can you to back to your closet for me, Spikey." Buffy pointed at the wardrobe.

In an unnerving imitation of Grindelwald, the boggart shot the man a dark look from under his lashes. Then he thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and sauntered past him to the wardrobe as if he hadn't a care in the world. Which, the man thought, he probably hadn't.

Feeling better now the doppelgänger of Grindelwald was out of sight, the wizard gave Buffy a warm smile. "Could you also be so kind as to return my wand? It is a dangerous for someone untrained to wield one."

Buffy stared at the wand in her hand almost as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Is this a weapon?"

"Ah, a wand is many things," he began, "It is also -"

"Then Mr Pointy stays with me," Buffy interrupted. She pressed her lips pressed together and gripped the wand more tightly. "I'm not having you putting an Abra-Cadavar on me."

The wizard briefly considered recalling it, then dismissed the idea. Buffy didn't trust him and she was only using it as a hostage to his good behaviour, he could let her keep it for the time being. They had gotten off on a bad footing and he had no wish to antagonise her further.

The pair spent a long moment regarding each other. The man scanning Buffy's face, searching for tell-tale signs of her parentage and finding more than one similarity in her features. Not that it signified anything. Physical similarities meant nothing and Buffy had been brought up as a Muggle. Joyce Summers had made sure of that.

He had to admit, to being impressed by her self-defence skills. Few people in the world were capable of disarming him like that and without using magic as well. He wondered if all American Muggles taught their children the art of self-defence? Or was this Joyce's idea? Had she made sure her daughter could defend herself in a non-magical way? If so, he had to applaud both her foresight and the end product.

But what, in Merlin's name, was Buffy doing with a boggart as a familiar? Inwardly he shook his head. Perhaps, he should not have been so surprised. With a pedigree like hers, something like that should not be totally unexpected.

Aware that time was passing, and he needed to get on, he cleared his throat. It was time to explain why he was here, and even with a Squib for a mother, it might not prove to be an easy task.

"I'm sorry. We seem to have got off to rather a bad start, "he said, smiling kindly at her. "Shall we try again, but this time with I'll make a formal introduction?"

At her quick nod, he continued, "Very well. Buffy Anne Summers, let me introduce myself. My name is Albus Dumbledore."

…...

A/N

thanks to the guests who reviewed this story! Thank you especially for saying this story is amazing. And yes, I agree there are not enough Buffy and Tom Riddle stories out there!